The Sum of Things Unknown
by Amos-76
Summary: The Task Force are sent undercover to protect the family of one of Red's informants. Agent Ressler goes undercover as a teacher in a boarding school in order to protect two children who may get caught in the crossfire of this nefarious Blacklister. Gentle Keenler throughout.


The Sum of Things Unknown

 _ **Set after the end of Season 5**_

23rd December Monday Evening, 6.30pm

Aram quickly dived through the closing hospital doors, behind which stood an immobile Elizabeth Keen. She was standing helplessly in the middle of the corridor, her hands held up, her fingers covered in dried blood, hair dishevelled, shock written on her features, staring down towards the end of the corridor where her partner's gurney had been rushed minutes before. She turned at the sound of Aram's laboured breathing. He still had his cycling helmet on and sweat beaded on his face from the effort of his rushed journey. From the look on her face, he first assumed that Agent Ressler was dead, and took a step back as if to deny the possibility of losing yet another colleague and friend. Liz turned back to look down the corridor in the vain hope that she might see beyond the doors.

'He's on his way to surgery now,' she barely whispered and Aram let out a breath of relief, took her by the shoulders and folded her shaking frame into his. Her body remained tense in his warm grasp and he released the hug, unsure what to do or say next.

'What did the doctors say? How serious is it?'

Liz looked at him with glazed eyes.

'They won't tell me anything. Only his next of kin…and I don't even know who that is right now.' She rubbed aggressively at the scar on her wrist.

'I came as quickly as I could…Mr. Reddington called me. He said you would be here. What happened?' said the young man nervously, wishing desperately that someone else would arrive to relieve him of this solitary responsibility.

'He jumped out…just like that. He shielded them…me…' Her voice started to crack, and Aram felt her weaken slightly beside him as he ushered her quickly into a chair for support. He didn't press her for more information. That would come in time. Her sleeves were soaked with blood, he could see that now and under her fingernails, some on her face where she must have pushed her hair out of the way. He could smell the blood and felt suddenly quite sick.

'Was anyone else hurt? The kids?' he asked nervously.

She shook her head. 'No other casualties except for the shooter. He's dead. His wife was taken into custody.' She faltered a little and added weakly, tears brimming in her eyes. 'The kids are on their way home.' She gritted her teeth and stood up, but quickly realised that there was nowhere she could go. This kind of reaction made Aram nervous, but he remembered back to when he had felt similarly vengeful, when Samar was missing not long past. Both he and Samar had long suspected that Ressler had been in love with Liz. If he was, he had stoically kept his feelings secret. She had chosen another man, had a child together. Agent Keen simply saw Donald Ressler as a trusted friend. But, however he rationalised it in his head, Aram knew there was more to their relationship, something that could not be measured, but fundamental and essential to them both.

A doctor in scrubs bustled his way through the doors and Aram froze. Liz quickly stepped towards him and he brusquely stepped to the side. But Liz wasn't letting him by and advanced on him.

'I'm sorry Ms. Keen, as you've already been told, I need a next of kin before I can disclose his condition. The hospital is bound legally by these rules. Once again, I'm very sorry.' He side stepped them both and bustled through to the reception desk, looking flustered.

Liz ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.

'It has to be his mother…After Audrey died, he must have changed it to his mother. His file will have a current number. You can access his personnel file from here?' she said looking for affirmation from an unsure Aram. He hesitated.

'I'm sorry Liz…I thought you knew. Agent Ressler's mother died about a year ago. Samar and I both attended the funeral. I can't believe he…um… never told you.'

Liz looked blankly at him.

'It was when you…um…went away for a while to …eh, clear your head after Tom's death. We tried to contact you, but you were off the grid.'

Liz went over to a chair to sit down shakily.

'His brother lives in Germany now, with his family. He moved there a few months ago. It must be him. He's the only one left,' Aram finished awkwardly, feeling a strange emptiness at the truth of those words and suddenly realising that Liz might not react too well to knowing so little about the current situation. He was relieved when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He stepped away, excusing himself as Liz put her hands up to her face, seeing the blood, it seemed, for the first time. Aram had moved over to the opposite wall to take the phone call, but even with his back partially to Liz he could see her staring as if confused at her hands.

'Yes, sir. We're having difficulty getting any information on Agent Ressler's condition…'.Liz could hear Aram mumbling into his phone but took in little of what he was saying. Her mind was buzzing. Ressler had lost his mother, was virtually alone in the world, now that his remaining family had moved away. Aram knew. Which meant Samar knew and probably lots of other people, but he hadn't told her. It really hurt that others knew before her, but she couldn't quite rationalise why. She felt angry with him, but guilty at feeling that anger.

'Cooper's on his way down right after he calls Agent Ressler's brother.' Aram sat gently beside Liz. 'It's gonna be ok.'

She looked blankly up, feeling a memory rising to the surface. Ress had said that just before Tom died, and held her tight to reassure her. She remembered how he smelled that day and remembered the bloodstained sheets that hung like walls, and the fear, and how she left tear stains on his suit.

It felt like floating. This new sensation that Donald Ressler knew he had no control over, and that scared him. It was so hard to breathe, like the air had been sucked away into a vortex and the light would follow after it. 'Hold on,' she had begged him when she held his hand, 'I need you. I can't do this without you.' And then her hand was pulled unsympathetically away as the trauma crew rushed the gurney through the doors, leaving his to fall unceremoniously as the loss of her touch. Blurred voices jostled his head, fuzzy shades of colour and bright light bled in and out of his vision as she disappeared. His head fell limply to the side as the darkness flooded in.

Raymond Reddington always changed the atmosphere of a room when he walked into it. Aram had often thought about the variety of emotions that man could evoke in people, and perhaps none more so than Donald Ressler. On a normal day, Agent Ressler was a vision of control and cool forebearance in the face of any anxiety or danger. That was, until Reddington appeared. That man stirred the blood of this particular FBI agent to such an extent that Aram was sure his blood pressure rose at the mere mention of the criminal's name.

Considering the fact that the aforementioned criminal was on the top ten of the FBI's Most Wanted list, his gait and attitude upon entering through the hospital doors was quite exceptional. Even in the early hours of the morning when most shuffled at best, he walked with ease, poise and the confidence of a man most assured of his own worth and status. His perfectly pressed three piece suit and sharp fedora were completed by the darkened sunglasses, a man suave and polished enough to convince or coerce any one of his enemies or allies alike.

Even Liz, who had been sitting motionless and dazed for many hours, sat straighter in her chair and was drawn to his magnetism, as he marched to her side with concern.

'Lizzie, are you sure you're OK?' He openly scanned her for injuries.

'It's not my blood,' seemed to be a rhetorical answer as he held her hand in his.

'Donald?' he asked, concern etched on his face. 'How is he?'

Aram watched as Liz shuddered. He slipped into the seat beside Mr. Reddington. 'We're having some difficulty with communications, eh, they won't tell us anything without a family member present,' Aram stated nervously.

Reddington stood up promptly. 'Well, that's fixable,' he stated matter-of-factly, as he strolled through to reception. Both Liz and Aram followed him watching closely the scene that unfolded. A transformation took place as Reddington reached the receptionist, a middle-aged lady with a perm in her hair and multiple necklaces and bangles adorning her. Glasses abandoned and hat in hand, the expression on his face was suddenly one of utter turmoil and distress. He clung onto the desk, still holding his hat tightly, wiping his face with his other hand and loosening his collar and tie. The receptionist looked up.

'My name is Peter Ressler. My nephew was brought in not long ago. He's an FBI Agent. Can anybody tell me how he is?'

'Yes, sir, Mr. Ressler. I'll get a doctor to talk to you as soon as possible. If you'd like to take a seat, I'll see what I can do right now sir.'

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Liz might have laughed.

Reddington walked back to the waiting area, completely transformed back to his self-assured persona. It was like turning on and off a switch, Aram thought, how easily he could manipulate people and get what he needed.

'That was simple,' he stated, fixing his tie again, looking at Liz. 'Although that woman can't be the sharpest tool in the box, if she thinks I'm old enough to possibly be Donald's uncle. Let's see if we can get you a little cleaned up before we talk to the physician. Agent Navabi is going to drive you home, only for you to return here later in fresh clothes, and by then we'll hopefully have news for you on your partner.'

And as if on cue, Samar walked through the doors, and quickly seeing her friends, headed straight towards them.

Liz nodded her head. 'No. I'm not leaving.'

'Lizzie dear, they'll never let you in to see a post op patient in that state. It would be a breach of hygiene. We'll stay here,' he said, nodding at Aram, 'and make sure that any news of Donald gets to you immediately. We will not leave this hospital until you return.' He nodded at her and patted her arm in reassurance, ushering her into the care of Samar. Liz sniffed.

'I'll be back in half an hour. Don't leave him.' She stared directly at Reddington. 'Promise me.'

Reddington nodded. 'You have my word Lizzie.'

The drive back to Liz's apartment was strange. The dawn was breaking and the first light of sun was starting to bleed like a watercolour into the horizon, slowly swallowing away the darkness of the night. Liz wished it would be so easy to wipe away the night's events or the memory of them. Samar looked at her occasionally as she drove the short journey. Liz gazed out the window, her eyes brimming with tears. What if she lost him too? It was incomprehensible. Ressler was her rock, always there for her, always supporting her, forgiving her…even when she ignored his advice. She couldn't imagine her life without him.

'You sure you're ok?' Samar asked. 'That's silly. Of course you're not,' she corrected herself. 'I'm sorry,' she said apologetically, pulling into the parking lot beneath Liz's building.

'I'm ok by myself,' Liz said. 'I'll be back in 10 minutes.'

She was true to her word. Within ten minutes, she was back, clean clothes, hair still wet, red eyes, hurriedly climbing into the car.

'I'm sorry,' she said to her dark reflection in the window, as Samar drove back out into the winter morning sunshine. 'I shouldn't have left you sitting in the car. That was rude. Thanks for driving me.' She looked over in acknowledgement. 'This must have been how Aram felt when you were on life support. I didn't realise at the time how hard that must have been for him,' she said quietly.

Samar looked over at Liz. Silence filled the car. 'No. I don't suppose you did.' Her response was a little bit frosty, but Liz decided to look out the window again. A few minutes passed in silence.

'Aram has been amazing.' Liz sniffed a little.

'Yes.'

'You're so lucky to have him. He's madly in love with you.' Liz smiled gently, thinking of the first time Aram saw Samar, and how everyone in the Post Office had waited patiently for them to get together. 'I'm a bit jealous actually,' she smiled, wanting Samar to soften towards her.

'Why would you be jealous?' Samar raised an eyebrow. She seemed genuinely surprised.

'Just miss that feeling,' murmured Liz, almost underneath her breath.

'I'm not sure how you can miss the feeling of having someone be madly in love with you,' said Samar curtly, as she pulled into the hospital carpark with a violent swerve, 'when you have that every day. Two bullets to the chest and we all know his only thought was to protect you. Only difference between your situation and mine,' she added, 'is the love is not reciprocated. You get all his love and support and understanding… and he gets nothing'. And with a bit of a flourish of her beautiful hair and a meaningful look, she exited the car, leaving Liz sitting there in astonishment.

'Are you coming?' Samar tapped on the window. 'They might have news on Ressler,' she continued, urging Liz out of her seat and closing the door behind her.

It was hard to know what to say as Samar marched a few steps ahead of Liz towards the elevator. As she pressed the button for the lobby, the ding of the closing doors was the only sound in an uncomfortable silence. Liz felt her cheeks flushed and her heartbeat racing at the sudden realisation of the truth behind the words Samar had spoken so bluntly back in the car.

'You really didn't see it?' Samar asked, a sardonic look of amusement reaching her huge, dark eyes, 'how much he cares about you, even when you ignore him for months on end? He needs his friends when his family are gone, but I think he needs you the most. You know a few months ago I tried to get him to talk to me, in vain, because he absolutely needed to talk to someone. Cooper, Aram and I were really worried about him for a while, worried that he'd do something…' she faltered for a moment.

Liz looked up in shock. 'I don't understand. Did something happen?'

'Many, many things happened Liz. The world outside of Elizabeth and Tom Keen kept revolving.'

'I don't know,' Liz stammered looking at her feet. 'It's all so complicated.'

Samar smiled. 'Complicated, and yet, at moments like these, so simple.' And the elevator doors dinged open.

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

Tuesday, 3rd December at the Post Office

Reddington strode into Harold's office in his normal self-assured way, with Dembe quietly following. As usual the Director's face was buried in work in his dark office. Harold looked up tiredly.

'Harold,' he said brusquely, leaving pleasantries aside, 'I going to need Donald's help in order to catch our next Blacklister. Call him up, will you?' Raymond carefully placed his hat on Harold's desk and smoothed his waistcoat as he settled himself into a chair to wait.

'Care to inform me what's going on first? What makes you think I'm just gonna hand over my agent to you, Reddington?' Harold was tired, exhausted, in fact, by the merry dance this criminal subjected him and his team to on an almost daily basis. 'You're going to have to give me more than that.' His objection was cut short by a polite knock at the door as Agent Ressler popped his head round.

'Aram said you wanted to see me sir?'

Reddington smiled as Cooper scowled in irritation at the criminal's pettiness.

'Yes Donald. You are very much in demand,' crowed Reddington with delight. 'I have a very important job for you.' He offered the agent a seat. Donald sat apprehensively. He did not trust Reddington in this elated form and sensed danger coming his way.

'Our next Blacklister is a man by the name of Lincoln Maddox, a nefarious individual responsible for…'

'Wait a minute Reddington, what happened to 'I only speak with Elizabeth Keen', where is she anyway?'

Reddington smiled. 'Quite right, Donald. Elizabeth has her own part to play in this and she will find out in due course. Right now, let's concentrate on you. As you have proved often in the past, you are a talented undercover agent, and this is where I'm going to need your expertise.'

Donald shifted uneasily in his seat. It was highly suspicious when Reddington used praise or compliment unsarcastically. Reddington blazed onward. 'As I mentioned, Lincoln Maddox is a very successful businessman in his field, but highly unethical. He owns a massive Auto Dealership business, but it is well known in my circle that many of his profits come from, not the free trade of vehicles, but rather of drugs. He's is one of the biggest players in the field at the moment.'

Ressler and Harold sat a little straighter in their chairs. Reddington noted their interest and continued.

'An interesting opportunity has arisen, and Maddox is returning to the US after a very lucrative deal was struck with some of my colleagues in Japan, to which I was privy. I believe we can use this information to take him down. It will be necessary, however to protect my contact until such time as the shipment arrives and can be seized by the authorities. He is a translator and helped to broker the deal. By any definition, he is a man with more money than sense, however, he may prove very useful. He goes by the name of Titus Phillips. In the last few weeks he has been tailed at least once by Maddox's men and I need the most attentive of agents to ensure that he and his family survive long enough for him to testify.'

'The task force will be divided up, in an undercover capacity of course, and given individuals to watch over. His twin children, a boy and a girl, attend boarding school, The Brethren School in Regensborough. These, I will entrust to you Agent Ressler. They are full boarders throughout the school year, both in 5th Grade, 10 years old. Effectively, they have been abandoned there.'

Donald nodded.

Reddington wandered around the office, standing by Cooper's desk and speaking to no one in particular. 'I despise these types of rich 'parents', and I use the term loosely with this particular couple , who abandon their children to a boarding school. It's like a relic of the past, a prison for unwanted and discarded children, forsaken by their selfish parents in pursuit of their own needs and desires…'

'And we all know what a glorious shining example of fatherhood you turned out to be, Reddington.' Liz was standing leaning against the doorway of Cooper's office, arms folded looking decidedly ferocious.

Reddington's mouth tightened, and ignoring Liz, turned his head back to Donald and Harold. 'The children can't be put into protective custody or Maddox will back off immediately and we'll lose our man. Maddox is highly volatile and will nothing get in the way of his business. Aram has some more information on Maddox and his catalogue of goons. Your roles are to protect this family from them long enough for the shipment to come in, be seized by the drug squad, at which point Maddox will be taken into custody, Phillips can testify and we'll catch our Blacklister.' Reddington nodded his head in satisfaction at how easy it would be.

'Agent Ressler will take the school and the ladies will take the house with Maddox and his wife. The children won't of course be aware of anything out of the ordinary. Donald will simply be their History teacher, Mr Connor.'

Donald was gazing at Liz in the doorway and had only been remotely listening to Reddington's instructions, but when he heard the word teacher, he looked up in shock.

'What? No way, Reddington. I'm not trained to be a teacher. There's no way I can…'

'Donald,' Reddington rose from his chair 'I believe you could be an inspirational teacher given the right incentive. They're only children,' he added with a sly look. ' It's just something you learn on your feet, and you're good at that. Be sure to do something with the wardrobe though. Teachers don't wear suits like this.' Reddington fingered Donald's suit. 'This is altogether too shiny. Any suede or corduroy lying about your closet should do fine.'

3 days later

Friday 6th December, The Brethren School

Donald had never been so terrified. Facing a classroom of children was simply the most alarming thing he could imagine right now, particularly privileged ones, who he imagined were probably spoiled and entitled. It was his first day at the Brethren School and he had taken Reddington's advice somewhat and softened his image for the undercover work. Liz and Aram had helped, while Samar stood to the side with her arms folded and one eyebrow raised, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of other people 'dressing' Donald Ressler.

In the end, Aram and Liz had differed slightly, Liz preferring the black jeans, open neck shirt and soft jacket approach while Aram insisted the pullover and tie was the way to go. Samar would have liked to see Donald Ressler in a pullover and tie, but unfortunately Liz won out. Reddington thankfully was not present for Donald's current humiliation but had (remotely) enjoyed the whole thing immensely, particularly his own suggestion that teachers don't usually have 'immoveable hair' and Donald should relax a bit and 'muss it up'. Luckily the glasses completed the image perfectly, almost transforming the man from polished FBI professional to slightly unkempt and befuddled History teacher. The glasses indeed completed the illusion that this history teacher lived in his own head and Liz liked them. She said they made him look like 'a fuddy duddy.'

He had had to do quite a lot of work for his first class too, but Donald was thorough and had completed his research diligently. He had been given permission to access the History Department's notes and learning material, as well as some hints from the current teacher on how to manage a classroom, so it was just a case of running through it all again to make sure he knew it well. He had all his material organised on a memory stick with slides, pictures, notes and a quiz. Luckily, History had been one of his strongest subjects in high school all those hundreds of years ago when he had been a student himself. The role of a teacher had certainly changed since he was a kid. No more open your books, take down notes and go learn it with a test tomorrow. It was so child-centred now, everything interactive, changing tack every few minutes with a differentiated activity for the children with short attention spans. As far as Donald could see, the children would all end up with short attention spans if they weren't required to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes.

His heart was beating fast as he walked down the corridor towards classroom number 5. He felt quite sick. But if Donald Ressler could do one thing, he could put up a façade of dispassion and stoicism. He had planned his entrance carefully, with the full knowledge that first impressions last. If he could intimidate a room full of FBI agents with his professional and somewhat prickly demeanour, he could certainly manage a class full of 10 year olds.

The noise was significant as he stood still outside the door for a moment. It reminded him of the cackle of a large gathering of Brent Geese. The two children he was sent to watch over were Matthew and Alice Phillips. There would be no need to interact much with them. Just remaining a presence would suffice. The FBI had also planted undercover agents as cleaners in the school so the children at risk could be monitored constantly.

Donald had a com set up, but turned off. The last thing he wanted was Aram listening into his lessons. The humiliation of that might never cease. He adjusted his glasses on his nose nervously. The children were boarders, so for the immediate future, he would take up residence in the school until this undercover mission was complete.

He took a deep breath and powered into the room. The teacher's desk was already set up and he strode purposefully towards it, banging a bunch of books down on its surface in order to catch the attention of the children, but contrary to his expectations , the children carried on with their general noise regardless. One child was sitting on top of a table with her legs crossed, her back to the teacher's table, a big bow adorning her blonde curls.

'RIGHT!' boomed his deep voice, as he stood at the top of the classroom, hands on hips. 'SILENCE PLEASE!'

The children looked up in shock. A scream resounded through the room as the little blonde girl promptly fell backwards off the table at the unexpected bellow. These children had never been roared at, and it had certainly caught their attention. A few nervous giggles came from the back of the room. The child on the floor looked up at her new teacher with barely concealed loathing. Nobody moved to help her up. Donald looked down, and suddenly stooped down to pick her off the floor. This was not the entrance he had planned.

'My name is Mr. Connor and I'll be replacing Ms. Shahib for a few weeks,' he offered lamely. The girl shuffled to her chair, tears in her eyes, eyeing him furiously.

A boy with straight, long, reddish brown hair looked at him suspiciously. 'Where's Ms. Shahib?' he demanded, clearly smelling a rat and not appreciating his regular teacher being replaced by this goon.

'Name please?' asked Donald.

'Duncan,' replied the child, with attitude.

'Duncan, sir,' retorted back Donald.

'No. Actually, it's Duncan Fermont.' More giggles from the back of the class. Clearly this Duncan kid was trouble. It wasn't gonna be hard to figure out, when he popped his head up thirty seconds after Donald had strode into the room. Disciplining privileged children for cheekiness was a deeply political and increasingly risky task, and Donald knew that he had already waded into difficult territory. Misdirection now. Straight back to work, no matter what happens, Ms. Shahib had warned him.

'Right, Mr Fermont. I'll tell you that piece of information if you can tell me one fact about the American War of Independence.'

It remained to be seen whether Duncan Fermont was a clever, studious rebel, or one who wasted his confidence and bravery on thwarting new teachers. Duncan looked back at him.

'I thought you were the one who was supposed be teaching us the facts,' he piped up cheekily.

Donald narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Surely his experience in the interrogation room could help him through this little situation. However, Aram had shakily warned him that physical intimidation and psychological undermining of Fifth Graders were not permitted tactics in this particular school.

'Fine,' said Donald. 'Clearly _**you**_ don't know one single fact about the American War of Independence, so we'd better find someone who does. One fact please?' Donald strode purposely across the room, using his height to tower above the cheeky Duncan. The child shrunk into his seat a little, cheeks reddening. Silence filled the room. Donald allowed the silence for a moment, then promptly turned on his heel. 'So we'd better get to work right now. Books open everyone. Let's start at the beginning.'

Donald walked slowly and purposefully down to the back of the classroom. The rest of the class looked briefly around and noticed some of the children at the front open their books and quickly followed suit. He looked at his tablet and scrolled through his role.

'Everybody stand up.' Chair legs scratched noisily on the wooden floor and the students looked at each other in confusion. 'We don't need chairs for this class, or tables. Let's move everything to the back of the room.' The children liked to move and an excited hum filled the room as they dragged their desks loudly across the hard floor, the noise reverberating within the huge plastered walls and high ceilings.

'Pick a number', he said to a little girl, who he recognised from Aram's research as Alice Phillips. 'A number between 1 and 20'.

'16', she squeaked shyly.

'Number 16 is… Aled Traug. Aled, where are you?' called Donald, feeling a little more confident that the children were following his directions. Aled was a small, frail looking child, rather sickly, with giant green eyes and long dark eyelashes. He looked up at his teacher, feeling that the man was like a giant. Donald sensed the child's apprehension and squatted down to Aled kindly and looking into his eyes.

'Aled is going to be King George III in our story, King of England. Aled, pick your Prime Minister Grenville.' Aled looked around nervously and with some reassurance from Donald picked the little girl sitting next to him 'Millie,' he whispered almost inaudibly.

'Good,' said Donald to the class in general. 'Name some of the other historical figures we need to tell this story.'

Hands started to tentatively pop up. Donald breathed a sigh of relief. A few children made some suggestions.

'We need a General Washington. Anyone up for the job?'

A little brunette girl with plaits rose her hand excitedly. 'What's your name?'

'Audrey,' she piped confidently. Donald felt a little strike at his heart.

'Hold on,' Duncan interjected, his cheeks still red. 'A girl can't be George Washington.'

'Interesting,' said Donald. 'Who agrees with Duncan?' Most of the boys put up their hands.

'The leader of an army, fighting the greatest colonial power in the world. What kind of person should that be?'

A few suggestions came shooting back; strong, confident, clever, inspirational, resourceful, determined, ruthless. Donald smiled. 'The person who most embodies those things. Does it matter if they're a girl or boy?' The children looked more hesitant.

'It would matter back then, but not now. These are things,' Donald pointed at the list, 'a leader would need if he **or** she was going to get people to follow them into danger or death.' He was trying not to let it in, but Reddington came into his head. He turned to the class. 'Would Audrey be a good Washington?'

The general consensus was yes and the class moved on.

'Right guys, we have lots of work to do. I think we could do a great job on this enactment for your teacher.'

A student put up her hand quietly. "Is she ok?' she asked timidly.

Donald went to the top of the room and faced his students. 'Ms. Shahib,' he said, turning to the class, 'has had to take an urgent trip back home because of a family matter. I'm not sure what the details are. She was upset to leave you guys, and I promised her that I would do my very best to make sure you don't fall behind in your work while she's gone. While she is away, why don't we make sure that she doesn't have to worry about her class and instead focus on getting a bit of this stuff done?' He felt bad lying to the kids but this was necessary to protect the two Phillips children, as well as all the others who shared classes with them from the likes of Maddox. Donald waved the History notes in the air. 'Who thinks that's a good idea?'

A small murmur filled the room. A mixture of agreement and grumbling filled the classroom. Donald took that as his cue that cooperation was his.

'We don't need tables and chairs because we need to stage our enactment of the War of Independence. Everyone sit down on the floor in a circle. Our Secretary will be… 'A small hand went up. 'Yes, this young man here. Name?' asked Donald. 'Ruairi, sir.'

Ruairi stood up and was given the interactive pen for the whiteboard while students called out the key terms and then tried to put them in the correct order. It was quite noisy but Donald was starting to enjoy himself. Within minutes they had enough work done so that they could plan in groups how they might enact what they had learned. The class flew by and looking at his watch he was surprised when there was only 5 minutes left.

'Pop quiz. Form a circle.' The children shuffled into a workable circle and looked at their new History teacher.

'So who can tell me what a colony is? And how we're going to colonise the West Wing of the school before Ms Shahib returns?' A few children looked up in shock. 'Just joking', he smiled.

11pm, Monday 23rd December at the Hospital

True to his word, Reddington had remained in the hospital until news of Donald emerged, as had the whole team. They had waited all night. Samar held Aram's hand at first, then later fell asleep nestled into his shoulder. Liz sent furtive looks in their direction from time to time. Harold paced a lot, sat down, then paced again. Samar woke at the noise of the door opening and Harold turned around to see Raymond Reddington walk calmly out of the door, self-assuredly following the surgeon.

'What's going on now?' Harold looked confused. He had arrived later than everyone else and had not witnessed the 'Uncle scene' from earlier.

'Um …yes sir. Um …Mr Reddington told the nurse in reception that he was …um …Agent Ressler's uncle.' A silence filled the room. 'We needed a blood relative to get any information on his condition and that would be his brother who recently moved to Germany and has not yet responded to the message left on his phone.'

Liz and Samar said nothing. On the spectrum of morality they all worked to in their lives, this didn't even register. Harold nodded quietly and looked down at his hands, as he sat back down wearily on his chair. Liz rushed up to the criminal as he walked back out to the waiting room, smoothing out the creases in his suit.

'He's out of surgery now,' Reddington addressed the room. 'It seems that when Donald was shot, either one of the bullets or the fall cracked some ribs, which in turn deflated a lung and caused serious internal bleeding. The blood loss coupled with the damage done by the bullets to his chest and spleen caused him to flatline during surgery.' His voice faltered for a split second but everyone in the room noticed it. Liz felt her legs go weak as she gripped tightly onto the back of a chair for support and Reddington's voice seemed far away for a moment. "They got him back, but he's still critical. The damage done to his spleen has been repaired. The doctors expect him to recover.' The criminal looked a bit pale as he sat down. Dembe stood loyally by his side. 'Myself and Agent Keen will be allowed a short visit in I.C.U. He may not be conscious for some days, due to the nature of the trauma.' Reddington wiped his face wearily. 'It seems that Donald's diving skills are excellent. He saved that child's life. You both did,' he added, looking over towards Liz.

Liz felt like she was going to throw up. 'I need some air,' she gasped as she all but ran out of the room. Samar went to follow her, but Aram put his hand gently on her arm to pull her back. 'She needs some space I think?' Samar nodded and sat back down.

Liz sat on the floor of the Ladies toilets, back against the wall, hair covering her face and sobs and gasps emanating from her. Only when her breathing started to slow, did she realise that she was imagining Ressler there beside her rubbing her back and reassuring her. It seemed he had always been there for her, from the first day they had met. Even through his prickly and proud demeanour, she could read him easily. He was selfless and dedicated beyond any person she had ever met, kind and ever ready to sacrifice himself for anyone who needed him. He would need her now to be a friend, to help him recover and get back to work quickly. And the pain pills! Liz would have to tell his doctors about his Oxy problem. God, how could she have overlooked that? She dragged herself off the floor and looked at her reflection in the mirror, barely recognising the exhausted woman that gazed back.

Recess, Friday 13th December at the Brethren School

'This teaching is actually quite good fun,' said Donald, standing in the corridor under the stairs, while on Lunchtime patrol. 'I'm starting to get to know the kids a bit, and they're really great.' His eyes scanned the area carefully. He pulled the phone from his ear for a brief moment to give a group of students 'the look'. They were flinging their shoes at each other.

'Shoes back ON!' Donald boomed across the corridor, as one shoe flew past his head.

Liz jumped slightly on the other end of the phone, then smirked.

'I wish I had your assignment,' droned Liz. 'At least, you're actually doing something useful. It's so dull here and this house is massive. I've never seen so much silverware. I never want to see polish again for the rest of my life.'

'Yes. Shoe patrol is both useful and motivating!' quipped Ressler.

'Can't believe I've been here more than a week,feels more like a month,' moaned Liz, feeling very sorry for herself. 'Samar's great but her dry humour is driving me mad.

'Anything from Reddington on the shipment or Phillips?' asked Donald. Time was moving on and he was anxious to complete this assignment. It would be a really bad blow to the underworld of international drugs if this guy went down. But he was worried. This was no place for catching criminals. It was a place of learning and development. Many of these kids had been effectively abandoned by their parents, an 'abandonment by privilege' Reddington had called it. They needed strong role models and firm boundaries, not danger.

'He's been unusually quiet,' Liz said on the other end of the line. 'Aram's been busy though,' she added.

Donald's jaw tensed. 'What's he up to?'

'He's getting ready for Christmas. Apparently it's like tinsel town at the Post Office'. Liz smiled, imagining the expression on Ressler's face.

'Can't be worse than here.'

'Never underestimate Aram's Christmas spirit Ress,' smiled Liz. 'Remember those light up reindeer antlers he made you wear last year? And then posted the photo on the Noticeboard?'

'And God knows where else,' groaned Donald. 'I should look upon that as training for whatever the Hell they have planned for me here. There is almost no humiliation that teachers won't endure for their students. I have to learn a dance that the staff are doing on the day before they go home for Christmas break. I'm highly suspicious. No one's actually said it, but I think they're gonna dress up as elves.'

'You mean _**you're**_ gonna dress up as an elf and…hopefully do a funny, elf dance,' said Liz, wondering if there was any way she could get the surveillance on that particular event. Donald groaned loudly. 'There's absolutely no way…' He didn't even bother finishing the sentence. They both knew that man would do anything for the kids.

'Besides, you're undercover and it's part of the assignment. The Donald Ressler I know would never risk an undercover operation by pulling out of something like that.' Liz smiled on the end of the phone as she heard him puff audibly. She'd get Aram on it. That man could work magic with surveillance.

11.55pm, Tuesday 24th December at the Hospital

Reddington sat in the hospital room feeling tired. He looked over at Agent Ressler lying motionless and pale on the bed. The ventilator had been taken away a few hours previously and they had been monitoring him closely. Medical personnel had been buzzing around for hours but it was close to midnight on the second night here and the quieter shift had begun. Donald had not woken yet. Elizabeth had been sitting beside him, holding his hand, but her head had lolled back on the back of the chair and she had fallen asleep. That was the first time she had sat down to rest since the previous morning. Looking at the agent's pale face, he was reminded of their time in the Cube, when Reddington had struggled to hard to keep him alive, to keep him fighting and hoping. Donald had struggled to listen and understand Red that day, despite the massive blood loss but had given up the criminal and defied a direct order from Cooper. Reddington knew why. Donald, despite all his spouting of FBI rules about Agents in the field, could not sit idly by and watch someone be murdered in cold blood, least of all Lizzie.

Bells rang somewhere outside, church bells. It was midnight. Christmas day had arrived. Reddington assessed the room. Dembe was parked outside doing a Sudoku puzzle. Liz and Donald slept quietly. He had his family with him on Christmas day, in albeit strange and frightening circumstances. Life was strange, but strange had become normal. He cast his mind back to the last Christmas he had been with his lost family, and quickly dismissed the memories. Now was not the time to deal with those emotions.

Liz stirred as the bells tolled their final ring. 'You let me fall asleep.' Squeezing Donald's hand, she scanned his face for any change. She was exhausted. She looked at Red blearily. 'You shouldn't have let me go to sleep.'

'You seem to be endowing me with very impressive powers Lizzie, the power over the conscious but exhausted mind.' He gazed back at her with a small smile. 'What other amazing and incomprehensible things can I do?'

Liz ignored his remarks. 'Any change?' She reached out and gently smoothed back a lock of hair on his forehead.

'It seems Agent Ressler is refusing to wake up until I leave the room. Now that we're related, he objects to me even more than before,' joked Red.

'Can you stop please?' Liz was exhausted and in no mood for this particular line of humour. Reddington's bloodline was a sore spot for her. 'You shouldn't have let me sleep. The last time I woke up after…' Her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears. 'If I stay awake… I need to stay awake.'

Red knew the exhaustion was talking now, but his heart ached to see her so hurt. Donald was her rock and Red knew it. She needed that strong, silent support and Donald would never fail her, or lie to her, or let her down. He would die willingly for her. Although they had had their differences in the past, Red also respected and liked him. With Donald, what you saw was what you got. No schmooze or false charm. If he was pissed off with you, you got a curt comment and a prickly mood. If he was worried about you, you got concern and care. He would move Heaven and Earth for Lizzie, and Red was comforted to see that he was no longer consumed by the rule of law. At least, he had been guided by the criminal's experiences in that regard.

'I thought you two hated each other.' Liz looked over at the criminal. 'Why this sudden concern for his welfare? What's in it for you?' That was something Donald might have said not long ago, but his words could not sting him as hers had. He knew she was emotional and tired, but some of her responses of late had been more impatient than usual, and it was nothing to do with the current situation.

'Actually Elizabeth, Donald and I have been become quite good friends. We understand each other after all these years.'

Liz looked at Red. 'So, you're buddies now too,' she said sarcastically. She was starting to feel a little bit jealous of all the people who claimed to know Donald Ressler so well. First, Aram and Samar and now, Raymond Reddington.

Red dipped his head with a little smile. 'I'm not sure Donald would agree with that assessment of it, but there's a truce between us. We have suffered similar pain. I think he has been admirably brave throughout. He handled it all with greater wisdom and strength than I ever could have. I'm fond of him. And he's a damn good Agent. Don't tell him this, but sometimes when he looks at me, I feel there's disillusion in his eyes, like he's disappointed in me. I think about it sometimes, how I've disappointed the people I care the most about.' Red was staring towards the hospital windows as he spoke, almost as if he had forgotten that someone was there, listening to his words. He dropped his head quietly. Liz looked at Red with a look that he could not read. She studied his eyes for a lingering moment, then looked away suddenly.

'Samar is angry. She thinks I've been an absentee friend, consumed by everything that's happened,' she almost whispered. She didn't mention what else Samar had said. 'She's right. I didn't think to include all the people who love me in my grief. Instead I pushed them away.' She looked at the pale man lying in the bed so quietly, dark circles under his eyes and a light fuzz already growing on his chin and upper lip.

'You have Dembe, Samar has Aram, but Don had nobody.'

Red said nothing for a moment. He'd never heard her call Ressler by his first name before. When Liz looked up at him, he looked so sad, his head tilted empathetically to the side.

'Lizzie, you need to understand something. Agent Ressler, the uptight FBI robot, always found his way in the darkness by following the rules, until you came. From the get go, his concern for you was as obvious as the sun in the sky. He broke all those principles that guided him…for _**you**_ , and the things that _**you**_ stand for. He loves you deeply no matter what you do or say. He even overcame his distrust of Tom, and me,' he added smiling, 'only for you. I don't think anyone could doubt how much of a leap that was for him, to work with people like us.'

'I feel like I'm in a constantly running nightmare,' she murmured looking at Donald's hand in hers. 'I've missed so much, been a terrible friend. Lied, used him. Worst of all, I've been redundant in his life when he was so potent in mine. It actually _**is**_ a cold day in Hell when you are a better friend to him than I am.'

A small, sad smile curved around Reddington's lips at that comment. He took her hand in his and when she saw his eyes, there was only truth there. 'Henry Thoreau once said this, _'Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.'_ You've done the best that you could do Lizzie, in extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Donald understands that. It's time to move on with the next chapter now.'

Liz blinked the tears away. 'Yes,' she whispered.

Reddington got up to leave, placing his fedora carefully on his head.

'Merry Christmas Lizzie … and Donald,' he added.

Liz watched the door close behind him. Whatever this man was to her, she knew he was a constant support and that he loved her unconditionally. She sighed and settled back into the chair to rest her eyes for a while. Maybe it would be ok to sleep. When she woke up this time, things would be better.

'Merry Christmas Ress,' she murmured.

7pm, Tuesday 17th December at the Brethren School

Ressler sat in his quarters at the school at 7pm checking surveillance videos which had been set all over the Brethren School. Alice and Matthew were being carefully watched, and all their movements within the school were monitored.

They were really quiet kids. In class, they were meek and said little, average students who seemed pleasant enough. Alice was a little outgoing and had put her hand up on a few occasions to answer questions. Matthew seemed a little dour and unfriendly and rarely looked anyone directly in the eye. Donald decided that it must be difficult to have a very privileged lifestyle. Most of these kids would be at home with their families like normal kids if it wasn't for their absentee parents and those copious amounts of money. He wouldn't wish that on any child. No amount of money could ever make up for not growing and learning with your parents, developing as part of a family. Donald knew that family was the foundation for everything that followed.

So far, nothing suspicious had been evident. All visitors in and out of the school were being closely monitored and vetted by Aram and his team back at the Post Office. He ran his hand through his hair, which felt ridiculously long and scruffy . This waiting was very frustrating, and he had a large stack of paperwork to do. His stomach rumbled. He needed to go down to the canteen and grab something to bring back to his room. Aram's voice came through the com.

'So we've vetted all the staff at the house, all deliveries, neighbours, work associates, right down to the dog groomer. Nada. Agents Navabi and Keen are feeling…um…actually pretty bored at this point.'

Ressler knew how they felt. This Maddox guy was certainly slow to act. The drugs had been seized by the DEA and Phillips had been taken in for questioning the previous day. Maddox should have made his move by now. It was unnerving to have nothing at all happen, like a hammer was about to drop.

'On a more pleasant note,' teased Aram, 'how are you getting on with the other teachers, one Ms McLachlan in particular?' Aram crooned her name. The question was loaded and Donald knew it. This particular teacher was a very attractive …and attentive teacher on staff, who seemed to show up wherever Donald was, quite regularly. Aram's awareness of this fact seemed to have spread quickly to the other members of the task force and 'Mr. Connor' had been enduring a bit of taunting. Donald was not at all interested in her, always the consummate professional, but it was difficult to shake her off without being rude. She was small and petite with short dark hair, very pretty and a pleasant Scottish accent. It seemed she had been working at the school for about 6 months. The kids had distinctly not taken a shine to her, and it was obvious from their body language that they did not respect her. Donald suspected she had a difficult time controlling the classroom. She taught Business and seemed not to have many friends on staff.

Don said nothing. He wasn't going to waste time talking about this. Aram was simply bored and looking for someone to tease.

Aram sensed he should change the subject. 'I have to say Agent Ressler, your lesson this morning on the philosophers who influenced Revolutionary activity during the Age of Revolutions in both America and Europe was fascinating. I wish I had been sitting in the class with you.'

'Thanks Aram…you sort of…were there, seeing as you were eaves dropping on the com,' said Ressler tiredly. He had classes still to prepare for tomorrow. 'I'll check in again in an hour. You should go home and get some rest. And I'll expect your report on at least two of those philosophers by Friday, same as the rest of the class,' smirked Ressler, turning off his com before Aram had a chance had time to respond.

He stood up and stretched his aching back. A stroll down to get a sandwich would be good. He grabbed a sweater and pulled it on over his head. The nights had suddenly gotten very cold and as he walked across the campus, the lights on the Christmas tree sparkled dully through the cold fog that had descended on the grass. Donald's breath was visible in the frosty air as he approached the savoury smells of the Mess Hall. Ms McLachlan was there, sitting quietly at a table looking at her phone.

She looked up and smiled as he passed. He nodded and gave a small smile back. He was starving and didn't want to get stuck in a conversation. Teachers talk way too much. Donald had discovered that very quickly after starting this mission. He had some resistance built up though. Between Reddington gabbing on and on at the Post Office and the incessant chatter of Aram, he could take on a few teachers with ease. As he grabbed his sandwich, and turned to go back to his room, she approached, as he knew she would.

'Ms McLachlan,' he stopped and smiled uncertainly.

'Call me Rebecca,' she offered. 'And I can call you Michael? This Mr and Ms thing is very formal.' Her cheeks reddened a little.

'Sure…Rebecca. I just stopped by for a quick sandwich. Gotta get back and grade those papers sitting on my desk.' Donald pushed his glasses up on his nose and attempted a fake grimace. 'A teacher's work is never done!'

Ms Mc Lachlan smiled. She really was very pretty. 'Cheerio then…Michael. I guess there'll be no Correcting Fairies visiting you tonight. You'll have to dig in yourself!'

Donald laughed lightly and walked away, wondering what the hell she was talking about, something Scottish, no doubt.

Early hours, Wednesday 25th December at the Hospital

Donald felt weightless, like he was caught in a dream. But something was holding him from drifting away, something firmly hanging onto him. He couldn't focus on what or where it was, but it was like an anchor. His eyelids fluttered as he mustered all the strength he had to open them and see what was happening, but they seemed welded shut. He couldn't remember where he should be, perhaps at work? But he shouldn't be in this state at work. Something in his mind caught at a memory that was flying away, Audrey…and the baby. No, they were gone. Now, it was the children, and Liz. Someone was trying to hurt them. They had a gun. He had to protect them. He tried to move but it felt like his chest had been set in cement.

The heart monitor in the room started beeping wildly and Liz was roused from another doze, disoriented and alone. She remembered vaguely that Red had left earlier in the night. She froze for a moment, cemented to the spot as she watched Ressler clearly in distress, breathing quickly, trying to move, his eyelids flickering and hands trembling. She hit the emergency button at the side of the bed. A nurse hurried into the room and put a mask over his mouth, trying to calm him and regulate his breathing. He was waking up. Liz couldn't tear her frightened eyes away from Donald, who was trying to remove the oxygen mask from his face.

'I'm sorry ma'am, you're going to have to leave while we assess him. He's ok,' she added as a doctor hurried past them. She bodily cornered Liz out of the room, as more staff entered the room, while all sorts of distressing sounds emanated from the machines monitoring him.

'But, he can't wake up without me there…' The nurse had already returned to Ressler. Liz was alone outside. 'He'll be alone and frightened,' she finished, talking to herself now. And she thought, for the first time, of how lonely and scared he must have felt after the Anslo Garrick incursion. He must have woken up disoriented and in awful pain after those horrific hours in the Box with Red, after he gave over the code. Nobody had come to see him, no family or friends, not even his partner, no one except Audrey. She sat down sadly on the seat outside, feeling completely powerless.

Monday 10am, 23th December at the Brethren School

Donald was kept busy in the days coming up to the Christmas Holiday celebration. Between teaching his classes, all of which revolved around Alice and Matthew Phillips in some way or other, and the surveillance that he was coordinating, the days were long. Updates from Liz and Samar revealed nothing new. Reddington had moved onto other things clearly, some more empire building while the FBI did his work for him, Donald thought sardonically. The children were getting very excited about their upcoming holidays, and quite frankly, their work had dwindled to a minimum, but Donald was not glad of the distractions that the Christmas season brought to the school, deliveries and visitors, some in costume. The security implications were serious and he worried that Maddox would make his move amid the general chaos, making it impossible for the Task Force to react quickly enough to ensure a positive outcome with no casualties.

His other worry was the Teacher's Dance, or the Humiliating Exhibition of Silliness, for want of a better term to describe it. That was something that could result in all sorts of chaos, with kids out of class and teacher's starting to enter the Christmas spirit, he knew there would be cracks in the system. Donald had attempted to absent himself from the preparation but many of the well- meaning teachers had insisted he take part, insisting the children would be so disappointed if he wasn't there. Donald fully intended to be there, just not dressed as an elf, or singing or dancing.

Rebecca Mc Lachlan seemed to be quite concerned with the preparations however, as she used it as an excuse to talk to him every day. Either that or she would indulge in some mutual bonding over Duncan Fermont and his 'antics' in her class. Donald hadn't had much of a problem with Duncan, he seemed like a fairly harmless prankster to him but for others he clearly picked his prey carefully, not just the teachers but the students too. He had learned from some of the other teachers that Duncan was a troubled kid, whose mother had died two years previously. His father, a high-flying businessman, worth a lot of money, had thought it expedient to enrol his only son in the Brethren School only a few weeks after his wife's death.

Donald's phone vibrated in his pocket. He was on patrol in the hall, and he ducked behind the door when he saw it was Liz calling.

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

'You guys ok?'

'Yeah, just rang to check in. Some chimney cleaners arrived at the house today, but they check out. Anything at the school?'

'Nope, unless you count pranking their History teacher by disappearing from the classroom this morning. I walked in, no-one there and thought I'd got the wrong room. They had run down to the restrooms, giggling wildly. I looked a right fool. Apparently, it's tradition to prank your teacher at Christmas.'

Liz smiled. 'Did you haul them all out and read them the riot act?'

'Hard to haul them out of the toilets. I just laughed it off and bribed them back into the classroom with the promise of a Christmas Movie on our last day before the holidays. You wouldn't believe the excitement of getting one over on your teacher Liz. 'There's nothing like it.' Ressler smiled.

'You're getting to be quite good at this. Aram says they love you! Hope you don't decide to give up the day job and teach full time,' quipped Liz.

'It's my plan actually, after I'm fired for incompetence,' deadpanned Ressler. 'Better get back to it here. Already lost an entire class today! Personal calls aren't allowed for teachers, another mark against me in the incompetence claim!'

Liz laughed. 'Yeah right,' she snorted. 'That'll never happen,' she said, finishing the call. He looked up as a shout emanated from behind him.

There was a commotion down the hall. He ran down the corridor and slid around the corner to see a Duncan Fermont almost sitting on Matthew Phillips and beating him with his fists. Donald waded in and pulled him off. He was shaking with fury and Matthew was lying on the floor with blood streaming from his mouth. A circle of kids had gathered around and looking on with mouths agape. 'Back to your classrooms NOW,' boomed Donald, scattering them while still trying to restrain the Fermont kid, who looked like he might explode with anger. A memory suddenly hit him, and he could see Mitchell Hatley lying on the floor with a bloody mouth. He let go of Fermont and hauled Matthew off the floor. He still had that dour look on his face, and his eyes were filled with a dull hatred. Fermont went to make a run at him again, only to be stopped by Donald scooping him away. Ms McLachlan appeared suddenly in the hallway.

'The Phillips kid needs the Nurse,' called Donald.

Ms McLachlan put her arms around Matthew, and glaring at Fermont with barely disguised anger, walked him away from the scene.

'You hurt?' Donald asked the child sitting the two of them on a nearby bench.

Duncan seemed taken aback by the question. He shrugged.

'You know I have to report this to the Principal? said Donald. You can't beat up another child in the hallway, break a few of his teeth and move on as if nothing has happened.' Again, he recalled Mitchell Hatley's bloody smile taunting him. He sensed Duncan's crime wasn't completely one-sided.

Donald's tone changed. 'What happened?'

Duncan shrugged again and seemed to withdraw into his own shoulders a little more.

'You know, my Dad was a cop and he was murdered when I was a little older than you are now. Christmas is hard. One parent…who's always busy with other things. What did that Phillips kid say to you?' Duncan said nothing. Donald sat quietly for a few minutes, saying nothing. He knew that feeling, when the anger threatened to swallow you up whole. Sometimes, the words just refused to come out of your mouth.

'Maybe we can find a way to make a deal, one that would be good for both of us?' Duncan's eyes remained cast down but he appeared to be listening.

'I will smooth this over with the Principal. You apologise to Matthew Phillips before anyone else even hears about this and we make sure that that temper of yours finds another outlet. We can talk about what to do with your emotions when they get too strong. I know how that feels,' added Ressler. 'Hotheads don't make good decisions. And I'm a hothead. Look at me …I'm a Ginger, short-tempered!'

Duncan looked up and smiled a bit, but there were tears in his eyes. He shrugged again but Donald took this as endorsement of the plan. Donald smiled to himself. Perhaps being a Special Agent for the FBI and a teacher weren't that different after all.

11am, Thursday 26th December at the Hospital

Liz walked into Ressler's room. She was surprised to see Dembe and Red standing by the bed of the now sedated agent, having what appeared to be an argument with slightly hushed voices. Liz never remembered Dembe openly disagreeing with Red before. She stepped back to listen for a moment.

'Actually,' Red was saying, 'I think you may be wrong there. He wears it this way, to the right.'

'Raymond, you are mistaken,' Dembe said simply.

Liz couldn't see what they were arguing about, but it was clear that Raymond was determined not to give way in this debate. Dembe was unflappable, and this in itself was starting to annoy Red. Sometimes, it was very easy to wind the criminal up. God, she missed Donald. He tried so hard to have an impact, any impact on Red, but to no avail. Liz didn't want to give away her presence at the doorway, but the two men were blocking her view of what was going on and she was very curious.

'Dembe,' said Red with authority, 'I think I know Donald Ressler better than perhaps anyone. The man hunted me for 5 years, and now we work closely together. I know almost every detail about his life.' Liz stiffened behind him. 'My blood runs in his veins,' he finished dramatically

'Yes. Perhaps you do Raymond,' said the younger man calmly, 'but on this particular occasion, you are inaccurate.' Red let out an annoyed 'Humph' noise at Dembe's self-assured attitude.

Liz stood up on her toes to see over their heads. They were hovering over the unsuspecting patient.

'Actually there's even more to work with now that he's grown it,' said Red, in a less childish tone and with a complimentary nod of his head. 'But it's definitely to the right. You can hardly see it, it's in such disarray…but there's the line.' Red seemed to be pointing to something. Dembe was immoveable. He said nothing but it was clear that he was not giving in. 'I'm telling you I'm absolutely positive…'

'Perhaps Elizabeth can settle this dispute,' Dembe said, turning slightly and bowing his head a little in acknowledgement of said lady. He smiled. Raymond turned to look at her, quite red in the face. He had argued himself into a corner. Liz looked at them as they parted to let her through. Ressler, who it seemed had not been through enough in the last few days, had been manhandled in such a way, that had he been awake to witness it, he may have exploded with rage. His hair which had been earlier smoothed into place carefully by Liz had been dishevelled and disturbed in alternate directions. While Dembe had not touched the aforementioned article, Red had taken all sorts of liberties with the agent's hair, which was usually so carefully moulded into an immoveable form.

'OUT! NOW!' Liz pointed to the door and with heads bowed, Dembe and Raymond left. 'And he wears it to the left,' she called after them. Red groaned in response as the door closed behind him. Liz went over to Ressler and sat down beside him. She looked at his messed up hair and smiled tiredly. He seemed much younger now, but she had to admit, it looked better that way.

10am, Monday 23th December, at the Phillips' House

'Liz,' called Samar. 'Look at this.'

Samar was sitting in the back of the surveillance van parked on the driveway, marked 'Denholm's Valeting Services'. Liz was in the front seat. She hopped back quickly.

'Aram just sent these files on the Window Cleaning Service that's currently working on the seventy five windows in this place. Some of these guys have a rap sheet. This guy here,' Samar pointed at a photo just sent by Aram of a pale, bald middle aged white man, with absolutely nothing distinctive about him at all 'worked with Maddox a few years ago in his Philadelphia dealership. Manager for two years. That's a bit of a coincidence.'

'I love coincidences,' said Liz, picking up her com to radio other agents in the house for back up.

'Anyone else?'

'Nothing concrete but let's take the lot of them in for questioning and see if anything leaks out of one of them,' smirked Samar. 'I doubt they're squeaky clean.'

Liz raised an eyebrow at the joke but nodded in agreement.

11.30 am, Monday 23thDecember at the school

Ms McLachlan had walked Matthew Phillips away, arms tight around him. He was rigid in her grasp, silent. She thought it was strange that he didn't cry at the sight of his blood or even at the altercation that had happened a few moments before. A phone vibrated in her pocket and she sat the child down on a nearby bench to answer it. She looked down the corridors to check that no one could overhear her conversation and moved away from Matthew, so he could not make out what she was saying.

'Yes, sir,' she whispered into the phone. 'I have the boy. It just so happened that he fell into my hands easily and without any suspicion, a stroke of luck.' She turned and smiled at Matthew, who turned away from her with a scowl on his face. A blood stained tissue was in his hand but his mouth had stopped bleeding.

"Yes, sir. I need Roy to arrive ASAP. I'll be waiting in the meeting place. Tickets are booked and we have the means to get the boy on the plane without any trouble.' She hung up on the call and walked back over to the boy.

'How would you like to go home Matthew?' she said sweetly, rubbing his arm reassuringly. ' That was your Dad on the phone. I can take you to him. I explained you've had a bad day and he thinks that we might bring you home a day early for the Christmas break. One day won't make much difference now will it?'

The child looked at her suspiciously. 'What about Alice?'

'I can arrange to have Alice come with you now if you'd like sweetheart. She's in class at the moment, but we can pick her up on our way.'

Matthew, still not convinced, but slightly tempted by the promise of a return home, folded his arms. 'I'll need to pick up my stuff from my room.'

'Yes, yes,' muttered Ms McLachlan, getting slightly impatient with the child. This had been a long and tedious assignment for her and she was anxious to get it finished quickly. Her husband Roy would meet them and together take the child to Maddox's men and she would leave the country with another passport, all IDs and details ready for her departure. She ushered the dour boy towards the stairs. He pulled back.

'Come on, sweetheart,' she coaxed. I'll take care of you.' He reluctantly took her hand.

11am, Monday 23rd December at the Post Office

It was after 11am at the Post Office and the place was virtually deserted but Cooper was still at work. Christmas decorations hung from every possible orifice and Christmas music piped in its way into Harold's office.

'Sir!' Aram burst noisily through the door, nearly tearing down a large dangling garland with silver leaves and red berries hanging above Cooper's door. Harold looked up from his desk with a concerned look. 'Um, my apologies sir,' said Aram, flapping it out of his way. 'I need to update you on the Maddox case.' He closed the door, trying to put the offending garland back up, and failing miserably, he set it down on the chair, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

'OK. Agents Navabi and Keen intercepted a phone from one of 'window cleaning' suspects.' Aram used the inverted commas gesture with his fingers. 'They rolled over on their colleagues pretty easily. It seems that one suspect, who wasn't picked up with them, a Roy Fleming, worked for a period of time for Mr Maddox in the Philadelphia branch of his Car Dealership, married, no kids. He seems to have been demoted, cos he's not a manager anymore. Went off the grid last year after he lost all his money, it seems, to gambling debts. Anyhow, he and his wife, Jane Straeburn appear to be working for Mr. Maddox on an unofficial basis. We found a phone on one of the suspects. The data had been erased but I was able to restore the call history and some voice messages, all from her, none of them, um, pleasant. The interesting thing is if you track the location of the incoming calls, they emanate from the Brethren School, and have been ongoing for the last 6 months.'

Cooper looked uneasily at Aram. 'Maddox has had someone planted in the school for months.'

'Yes sir. The only staff member who fits that timeline is a Rebecca McLachlan…and she teaches the Phillips twins.'

'Jane Straeburn,' nodded Cooper.

'Release the suspects without charge and let's see what happens next. Inform the rest of the team'.

'Agents Keen and Navabi are on their way there now.'

'Good work Aram, keep me posted.'

'Have you reached him yet?'

'It's going straight to voicemail. We're only 5 minutes out Liz. We'll get there. Aram accessed the original plans, says there are some underground passages beneath the west wing of the school. Might be an obvious place to hide out until they can get him to the airport. Either way we might find something there. '

'What about Agent Mitchell? Is the girl secure?'

'We can't get anything from the school. Communications are being blocked.'

Liz thumped the steering wheel in frustration. Where the hell was Ressler? She knew communications were down but he would have found another way to contact them. He was there trying to protect those children, with no back-up. Worse still, he was completely unaware that the McLachlan, or Straeburn woman, was at the centre of this attempted abduction. The drive was thirty minutes but she was damned if she didn't get there in a lot less. Those children's lives depended on it.

'Where would this Straeburn woman go?'

'Aram's working on that now. Reddington may know where she got the fake passport and if he can apply a bit of pressure,' Samar's voice dropped, 'he may be able to intercept her. He's working on that as we speak apparently. We're pretty sure she already has the boy. As soon as we can inform the Principal, agents will have taken the girl into protective custody.'

Liz thumped the horn. A car ahead of them hurriedly moved out of the way and Liz zoomed past, sirens blazing. Samar held on as Liz took a sharp corner, her eyes fierce and focused. She couldn't recall when Liz had last been this intent and distressed, but in a way it reminded her of when they had confronted Dr. Bogdan Krilov. She had driven to get to Ressler that day. He had shot a secret service agent in his attempt to get to Laurel Hitchin in her home. Both women had feared what he might do in his confused and altered state. In search of his supposed witness and of the truth, especially after Reven Wright's death, Ressler had a tendency to become reckless in his pursuit of justice. Liz's eyes were terrified that day, as they were again now.

The phone rang again.

'Aram. What do you have?' Samar asked urgently.

'OK…Mr. Reddington's…um…friend has given us the names on the fake passports. There are flights booked for two adults and one child under the name Kershaw from Philadelphia International Airport to Amsterdam at 5.30 this evening.'

'Doesn't give us much time,' muttered Samar.

Ressler didn't take long to realise that Matthew Phillips was not at the Nurse's station, or indeed back in his class. It didn't take more than a few seconds to work out that communications between the school and the outside world were down, scrambled in some way. His first thought was to secure Alice and make sure that she was safe. Agent Mitchell was quickly dispatched with the frightened little girl.

Luckily one of the students had identified Matthew being pulled along by the arm in the direction of the West Wing of the school and Ressler quickly accessed the plans, as he was less familiar with the older end of the property. Donald armed himself.

The tunnel system was accessed through an orchard. It looked like the entrance to a Mausoleum and Ressler shuddered slightly in the cold as he entered. He had no jacket on and his shirt sleeves were upturned. The walls underground were damp and Donald had to squat as he crept along to avoid the low ceilings. The light from his torch showed the way, and he kept his ears peeled for any echo in the walls. A fork in the tunnel forced him to choose a direction and, pausing for a moment to calm his breathing so he could listen better, he picked the left fork. He soon saw a light shining at the end of the tunnel, turned off his torch quickly and readied his weapon. Very quietly he glanced round the doorway. Matthew was crying in the corner while Rebecca paced up and down like a caged animal. Ressler vaulted around the corner. 'FBI, put your weapon down,' he shouted.

Rebecca jumped quickly, putting her hands in the air. She had no weapon but Ressler checked as he turned her around to handcuff her. He nodded at Matthew, reassuring the shuddering child. 'It's OK Matthew. You're gonna be alright.'

'Mr. Connor?' he asked with surprise, trying to see through the dim light of the torch. 'You look different without your glasses.'

Ressler was taken aback. The child had barely spoken two words to him before this.

Matthew stared past his History teacher with a shocked expression. Ressler was reaching for the handcuffs when he turned. Duncan Fermont was standing at the doorway. He must have followed from the school. Just behind him a large bearded man appeared and quietly raised a gun to the child's head. Ressler pulled the woman over to Matthew and trained his gun on the huge man.

'Drop it now. FBI,' said Donald, trying to keep his expression steely and confident, but the sight of Duncan's small, shuddering frame sent panic through him. They weren't going to get out of this without a casualty and with two children in the room, Donald was powerless.

The bearded man laughed callously and his deep guffaw echoed in the cave. Donald's eyes darted from the woman to him.

'Roy,' she breathed in relief, as she ran over to him in the doorway. 'He's here. This is him. I told you I'd be able to catch the little rat.' Her Scottish accent had disappeared completely.

Roy ignored her. He gestured to Ressler.

'Put down the gun Fed. You've no chance of taking us in. 'Less you want this here kid to die. This boy for that one, or he dies,' he said, waving his gun in the direction of Duncan.

'We know all about your operation. Phillips has already testified, so there's no point in getting yourself the death penalty for the murder of a child. If you put the gun down now, we can cut a deal and keep you two off Death Row.' Donald looked purposefully look at Rebecca as he said it, still keeping his gun steady and standing protectively in front of Matthew. Duncan looked scared but Donald recognised the look in his eyes. He'd seen it in class and that child wasn't going to stand still and be used as a bargaining chip. Rebellious kids have their advantages, thought Donald as he waited for the kid to make his move.

In a flash, Donald moved as Duncan kicked Roy in the groin, barely making any impact except for the surprise of being attacked by a 10 year old. All Ressler needed was that half second as he threw himself at the man, knocking his gun onto the ground with a clatter. There was no way his strength could overpower his opponent, but the larger size of this hulk meant a slower response time and as Ressler quickly kicked out the man's knee and punched him straight in the face, breaking his nose. It was easy enough to bring his chin down hard on the cement floor, stunning him. Ressler grabbed his cuffs but not fast enough as Rebecca had scurried over to grab the gun in the struggle. He pulled both boys behind him, shielding them and backed out the doorway with his hands up.

'You heard what I said before…don't do this,' he pleaded. He took more steps backwards. 'Let the kids go,' he looked at her with pleading eyes. She faltered for just a moment.

'Run boys.' After a moment of hesitation, the two little boys began to run back down the corridor and Donald stood protectively blocking the doorway so that Rebecca could not pursue. Roy groaned still on his hands and knees. He started to lift himself up off the floor, moving towards the doorway but there was blood all over his face from the impact of the broken nose and he teetered dizzily and fell back down again. Donald took his chance and slamming the door against the man's hand, he ran after the boys.

'Damn it woman, shoot,' Roy shouted angrily.

Ressler launched himself after the two children, and only moments after he reached them, came the sound of ricocheting bullets off the tunnel walls. Unarmed, he needed to get the children to safety as quickly as he could. They headed back towards the exit, only to come across another fork in the tunnel that he did not recall on the way in. Donald halted suddenly and looked around. In the darkness, he must have made a mistake. They were definitely lost.

Liz and Samar heard the shots in the distance. They ran towards the entrance to the tunnel with guns ready. Samar took out her torch and went in first. They went down the steep steps, leaning down low in the darkness. After a few hundred feet, they came to the fork, and both took one way. Samar went to the left. She could hear Roy shouting and swearing as he moved along the tunnel. He was shouting at his wife to hand him the gun. She moved into the shadows for a moment to assess what to do next.

If she followed the sound of the voices, she would be able to get to Roy, but she needed the element of surprise. So far, the two criminals weren't aware that the FBI back up were already on site. But what Samar heard next chilled her as more shots were fired further down the tunnel. Someone was in pursuit of someone else, and it didn't sound like Ressler, if he was even here, had the upper hand. Liz had followed the other path but was uncontactable in the tunnel system.

Ressler had scurried along the passage with the two boys in front until they came to a series of steep steps going up but they weren't the entrance steps. A door at the top was wedged firmly shut. He tried to shove it with his shoulder but as it was at the top of stairs, he could not get his weight behind it. He had to turn around, and as he got ready to drag the two exhausted boys back from where they had come from, he saw the bloodied Roy approaching with one hand held up against his shoulder. He was seething with anger, and, worse still, he now had the gun. The boys knew by now to retreat behind their teacher's back where they took refuge on the small platform at the top of the steps.

A noise behind him drew Ressler's attention. A key was turning in the lock and the heavy wooden door was opening. Donald got ready to rush at it if need be and moved the two boys towards the wall. They were well and truly trapped.

A gun appeared first through the doorway, followed by Liz. In a split second Roy had fired blindly at the door, firing shot after shot, some of them bouncing off the stone walls. There was no way to tell the trajectory of the bullets. Liz reacted fast, firing her weapon, and using the door as a partial barrier, as Donald dove to cover the two terrified children. He felt the air sucked from his lungs amid the chaos. Chunks of the ceiling began to drop down as dust filled the air. He could hear coughing and wailing , but the shots had stopped. He pulled himself up to suck some air into his lungs. He couldn't see Liz, but he could feel both boys squashed against the wall and see their dirty faces and red terrified eyes.

'Mr Connor!' called Duncan. 'Get off me!'

'Liz!' called Donald coughing and gasping, his voice barely audible as he tried to move himself up again.

'Ressler,' he heard her calling his name and fell back down with relief. She was ok. Somewhere amid the chaos of the FBI swarming the small space, he heard Samar's voice. Roy was down, taken out by Liz. It was over. The children were safe.

Liz scrambled over to him. The dust had started to subside but he was still gasping for breath. He tried to say something to her so she'd know he was ok, but there was a pressure building in his chest.

'Ress,' she pulled at his shirt. 'Come on, breathe!'

'Trying,' he gasped, his chest heaving. Duncan and Matthew had moved back and were standing above Liz and Ressler on the ground. Outside, the sun was setting and an orange glow filled the entrance.

'He's bleeding,' said Duncan pointing at his teacher.

'What? Where?' Liz moved around to face Ressler only to see that the child was right. His shirt had turned a dark red. 'Jesus,' she yelled. 'We need help over here, we need a paramedic.'

Donald looked down at the seeping blood running down his shirt towards his stomach, surprised. 'I didn't feel it,' he gasped looking up at her apologetically.

Liz had taken off her jacket and was pressing it against the wounds. He wheezed in pain. 'Feeling that for sure.' He tried a weak smile.

'You're gonna be ok, Ress. I promise I won't leave you, but you've got to hang on.'

Donald looked at Liz holding him on the ground, trying to stop the bleeding and thought of Audrey, all those years ago. Maybe this was the appropriate way for him to go. His eyes seemed to lose some of their glow. He looked suddenly deathly pale in the failing winter light. Liz, seeing the look in his eyes pushed harder on the wound. 'Look at me Donald Ressler. Damn it, don't you dare. Look at me,' she barked at him, clearly panicked. 'Help is on its way. Concentrate on me.'

Donald seemed to reanimate somewhat and followed orders. He looked at her hands working to save him, covered in blood. He looked at her dark eyelashes and the startled light in her blue eyes. He looked at the children behind her, being ushered away by Samar. He looked at the lights outside, red and blue flashing getting closer.

'At least I didn't have to do the Teacher's Elf Dance. It was almost worth getting shot,' he wheezed and Liz forced a smile.

'When you're better we'll make you do it on your own, at the Post Office, with the reindeer Antlers on and Aram videoing it.'

'There's a reason to live.'

Two paramedics rushed in and squatted down beside him. Liz felt herself pulled out of the way by somebody.

4pm, Thursday 26th December at the Hospital

Liz was quietly sitting in Donald's hospital room with some work files on the table beside her, untouched. The doctors had taken away the sedatives and Don was expected to wake within the hour. He looked so different from his usual Agent 'look', no hair gel or sharp suits, softer, more vulnerable. This was a new aspect to her partner that she had never realised before, along with all number of other things she had learned about him and her friends over the past three days. The whole experience had opened her eyes.

He had been asleep for three days and Liz had remained with him. Aram had suggested music as a means to bring him around but she had quickly realised that she didn't know what to play. Yet another question she would have to ask. Aram knew that Don liked Metallica, but it was decided to perhaps forfeit the music on this occasion and simply wait for him to wake up.

She sighed and spoke quietly to his unmoving form. 'The kids are doing fine. Duncan is home with his Dad, quite the hero, that little chap, from what I hear. He sounds like a mini version of you.' She ran her thumb over his softly.

'Matthew and Alice have returned to the realm of windows and furniture polish. What a boring existence. I think they'd be better off in school. At least there are other kids there to interact with, instead of that dreadful mother and her incessant preening…'

Donald moved his hand, and his eyes started to open slowly. Everything was fuzzy and strange, but he was not alone. Somebody's hand was holding his. His head fell slowly to the side and there she was. Liz. Just like an angel, he thought.

'Hey,' she said softly, her hand moving up towards his face and then letting it fall back to the bed uncertainly.

'Hey,' he whispered. She helped him to drink some water to get his voice working again. He lay back, looking exhausted from the effort.

'The kids are ok?' he croaked.

'Yes, just fine. Maddox has been arrested based on Titus Phillips' testimony. You did great protecting those children.'

'We did great,' he corrected her.

'You missed Christmas.'

'Excellent. All of it I hope.' Don smiled.

'Your brother is on his way. He should be flying in soon. Aram said he would meet him at the airport and bring him straight here.'

Aram and Henry, dear God no, thought Ressler. He looked genuinely worried that his personal and professional life should meet without him there to control it. 'I never told you…' he started to explain, looking guilty.

'It's ok,' she took his hand. 'You can tell me anything, anytime. There's no rush.'

'You look tired.'

She smiled. 'Plenty of time to sleep when this is over.'

'You didn't leave me,' he said, almost shyly.

'I promised I wouldn't, didn't I? We had a deal.' She smiled softly. 'You didn't leave me either.'

He gazed at her intently for a moment. 'You look different. Something's changed.'

Liz nodded and her eyes threatened to overflow with tears, but she fought them back. 'I've learned many things in the past few days, things I should have known before.' She could see his eyelids start to get heavy. 'Life is a learning curve and I've decided to live afresh,' she smiled, remembering Reddington's words. 'A new start,' she whispered as Donald smiled softly, drifting off to the sound of her voice.

# the blacklist secret santa 2018


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